


you can get me through the night

by placentalmammal



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/F, Trans Female Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: Adelaide visits Rosana in her dreams. A Twitter fic that got away from me.





	you can get me through the night

Adelaide’s domain stretches from Rosemarrow to the distant eastern shores of Hieron. Their lives--their deaths--are hers, and as such, she can travel freely between their dreams. She hasn’t made much use of this ability. She prefers to haunt Hella--none of the others hold much interest. The thief is amusing, the ranger unremarkable, the paladin dull.

The paladin’s wife, however…

Rosana is pretty, plump, devout. She has a clever mind and a sweet rosebud mouth. Adelaide thinks that she could’ve done much better than the man she married. Perhaps god-feeling overwhelms good sense, perhaps he’s fantastic in bed. Perhaps they’re in love.

Regardless, Adelaide makes an effort to seek her out. She walks the circuitous routes of the mind until she finds Rosana, standing at the sink of a house familiar from her brief forays into the paladin’s dreams. Adelaide takes a moment to admire the other woman’s profile: her upturned nose, her brown eyes, her yellow hair.

Adelaide makes her presence known. She’s divine, and it’s as easy as willing Rosana to notice her. No need to clear her throat or speak the other woman’s name. Rosana gasps, turns. Her hand goes to her mouth and her eyes narrow, as if in recognition.

“I...don’t know you,” she says, the barest accusation in her voice. “You’re not him.”

Adelaide doesn’t know if she’s referring to her god or her husband, but the answer is the same. “No,” she says, and she crosses the room to Rosana’s side. “Does that frighten you?”

“No,” she says, straightening her spine. She meets Adelaide’s eyes, and she looks nothing like Hella, but Adelaide thinks she can understand why Hadrian loves them both. There’s a certain set to her jaw, a hardness in her eyes, an unwillingness to bend or to bow.

(She realizes, then, why Rosana married the paladin. Adelaide doesn’t need to spend much time his dreams to know he’s all willingness, easily bent.)

Adelaide smiles, all teeth. “Very good.” She puts her hand on Rosana’s jaw, turns her face toward her. “Cowards make poor lovers.”

Rosana’s hand closes around Adelaide’s wrist and then she’s on her back on the floor, not sure how she got there. Rosana stands over her, cool, indifferent. She must have thrown her, but--

“I’m not afraid,” says Rosana again. “And I don’t like being toyed with.”

Then you picked the wrong fucking god to follow, Adelaide thinks but does not say. Instead, she smiles like baring steel, but the sight of the other woman looming over her is affecting her judgment. She swallows.

“Wouldn’t you like to toy with me?” she purrs.

Rosana stares at her for a moment, and then shrugs, a universal why not? gesture. She kneels, straddling Adelaide, and lifts the hem of her garment. It’s not like when Hella does it, no reverence or terror in her touch. It’s simple, ordinary, and it makes Adelaide shudder even before Rosana’s hands are on her. She’s plenty wet and the other woman’s finger slips into her with no resistance, hiking one leg up over her shoulder for a better angle. Adelaide shivers, clenching around her, breath catching.

Rosana smiles. “So sensitive,” she says, teasingly. “I like that.”

She crooks her finger, adds a second, and Adelaide gasps. Rosana’s hands are quick and clever, seeking out the softest parts of her, and before long, she’s moaning, thighs shaking from the effort of holding back. “Go ahead,” says Rosana, gentle. “Come for me.”

Adelaide does, messily.

Rosana sits back, still smiling, wipes her fingers clean on her apron. She’s hard beneath her skirts, the outline of her arousal just barely visible through the layers of her petticoats and crinoline. Adelaide sits up, gestures to it. “Do you want--” she says, and she stops.

“I want you in me,” she says. “May I?”

Rosana nods, sits back, and Adelaide climbs onto her lap. She hikes her skirts up, and sinks down onto her with a groan. They’re both so wet, it’s an easy ride, rocking back and forth in Rosana’s lap, chasing her second orgasm. The other woman comes before long, fingers spasming on Adelaide’s waist.

Panting, Adelaide pulls back, still shaky, and Rosana cleans them both with her apron. She takes it off and tosses it aside, underneath the sink.

Adelaide frowns. “You’re just going to have to get that later,” she says. “I thought you kept a tidier home than that.”

Rosana gives her a look. “This is a dream,” she says. “It’s not real. You’re not real.”

Adelaide sighs. This is the only place she’s real, but it must not seem like much to her subjects in the material world, the living and unliving creatures for whom touch is not a rare luxury.

Adelaide smiles, and she’s angrier than she realized. “You’re a practical woman,” she says. “He’s lucky to have you.” She’s being mean, but she can’t help it.

Rosana looks at her, coolly. “Leave,” she says, and Adelaide does.

She’s just a guest in the other woman’s dream, after all.


End file.
